


In Shining Armor

by AccioInvisibilityCloak



Category: Lovely Little Losers, Nothing Much to Do
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, fairy tale AU, knights AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 09:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12745701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccioInvisibilityCloak/pseuds/AccioInvisibilityCloak
Summary: Lady Beatrice the Valiant, a knight of Messina, is searching for her missing cousin, Princess Hero. Sir Benedick the Brave, a knight of Aragon, is just searching for heroic escapades to add to his resume. When they cross paths, the fate of kingdoms will depend on their ability to get along.Whoever thought being a knight in shining armor was romantic, never heard this particular fairy tale.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh it's here! I've been working on this for so long, and I got it in my head that I had to post it before I finished my other chaptered fics, so here it is, in its entirety. Parts of the plot in this fic are very loosely inspired by The Princess Bride, so be aware of that. Enjoy! :)

***

       Whoever said being a knight was supposed to be romantic, clearly never tried scaling an impenetrable tower in the heat of the midsummer sun.

Ben is halfway up this particular ivory tower, climbing-hooks jabbed into the old and weakened mortar between the bricks. He takes a moment to breathe, lifting the heavy visor of his helmet, savoring the wind on his face. His silver-plated armor is murder on a hot day like today. It’s like being trapped inside a tin can as it’s heated up over a fire, slowly cooking him alive- but he has to carry on.

He  _needs_ another victory, to keep his stats up. This princess will be the fifth royal he’s saved this week, if he can only get inside and kill the ogre who is said to guard the keep. He’s one of the more successful knights in the realm— in _all_ the realms, if he says so himself— and he intends to keep it that way.

Ben slides his visor closed and starts climbing again, his sore muscles straining under the chain mail and metal plating, thankful for such a quiet, deserted location for a rescue. Easier to concentrate. At least, it is, until something heavy hits his right hand with a _clang_ , and he loses his grip on the wall.

       Swearing, Ben scrambles to regain purchase, his metal-plated feet slipping and sliding across the rough stone wall. He’s so _close_ , just a foot away from the tiny window ledge that forms the tower’s only opening. If he could just… reach a little bit… closer… _Clang!_

Another small but sturdy object collides with his left hand, this time. It seems to grab him, his hand pulled roughly away from the stone, and no matter how he struggles, he can’t regain control. It’s some sort of rope, perhaps, or even magic, yanking him away.

 His feet are too unwieldy in the armor to stay in their footholds, and once he’s started slipping, he’s too heavy to stay upright. As he falls, Benedick squeezes his eyes shut, bracing for the impact, and-

“ _Oof_ ,” he grunts, hitting something large and warm. A shrill, furious whinny tells him that someone has broken his fall with a horse. As he tumbles from the animal’s back, he feels rather sorry for it. That can’t have been pretty.

       Ben can tell he must be bruised and battered all over, and he’s pretty sure he banged his head on the inside of his own helmet. He can barely breathe, his chest burning, and he hopes that whoever owns that horse isn’t planning to challenge him to a duel.

“Who are you?” snaps an angry woman’s voice. “And why are you trying to save my cousin?”

“ _Wha-_?” Ben gasps, and the stranger stamps her foot against his chest, pinning him to the ground. His head clunks against the inside of the silver helmet in exactly the same spot as before, and he sees stars.

“My _cousin_ ,” the stranger demands. “ _I’m_ supposed to save her, and you’re ruining my rescue!”

 “Ow,” Benedick comments from the ground, still disoriented. “Listen, whoever you are— _you’re_ the one ruining this rescue, not me. I just defeated the most fearsome dragon in the western lands the other day, and here I am, bested by a length of magic rope.”

“An enchanted lasso,” the other knight corrects haughtily. “And that dragon was _mine_ to slaughter! I knew someone was trespassing on my lands!”

“Wish I’d known that before I drove my sword through its heart, but I’m no mind-reader, my lady knight,” Benedick replies.

“You _arrogant_ , _awful_ \- this is _my_ turf, okay? _I_ perform all the heroics around here, and I don’t need you slaying my monsters and rescuing my royals. I should just end you right here!”

The knight presses her boot more firmly into Ben’s chest, causing him to groan and cough weakly. He can see now that while the rest of her armor is fashioned from scales of silver, her breastplate is pale gold and her plume is red. She’s from Messina.

“I promise,” he wheezes. “If you kill me, you will live to regret it.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” the woman says, raising her sword. “One less Aragon to worry about.”

       “No!” Ben shouts, throwing up an arm in self-defense. “Please! I have information! Very important information, about this stronghold you intend to breach, and the possibility of prisoners inside.”

“What do you know about my cousin?”  the golden-armored knight demands, immediately suspicious. “And don’t get any ideas. She has a fiancée already, and she isn’t interested in male suitors.”

“Whoa, okay. First of all, I am _not_ a suitor,” Ben protests, wrinkling his nose beneath his visor. “I actually think it’s ridiculous to expect a princess to marry me just because I’ve saved her. I’m just doing my job.”

“ _My_ job,” the lady knight cuts in. Ben ignores her.

 “And besides, I don’t want to be tied down. I am _never_ getting married, to your cousin or anyone else. Now get _off_.”

The golden knight cocks her head. If he could see her face, he hopes she would look more impressed than skeptical.

“Fair enough. I don’t meet many men who understand that women don’t owe them anything, no matter how many dragons they’ve slain,” she says, positioning the tip of her sword directly above his neck. “ _Don’t_ think you get brownie points for basic decency, though.”

Ben squirms away from the blade, but with her foot on his chest, he has nowhere to go. So he pours on the charm instead.

“Come on, you’ve got me between a sword and a hard place. Let me up. Make it a fair fight, you know you want to.” Ben opens his visor so she can see his eyes, and winks. It doesn’t impress the golden knight, who laughs as she removes her foot. Ben sighs in relief.

“Get up, then,” says the woman. “And don’t think I’ll go easy on you!” She raises her sword, beckoning to him, and he scrambles to his feet.

      “Actually, can we save the dueling part for later?” Benedick asks hopefully. “I was just going to make camp over that way, and then-”

“No way. I’m not letting you out of my sight, dickface. Get on your horse.”

“I’m not taking orders from you,” Ben protests, and, quick as anything, the woman has her sword to his throat again.

“Get. On. Your. Horse,” she says fiercely, and Ben does so, goosebumps rising along his arms as he does. This woman is amazing. And terrifying. He can take her, he’s sure, but still- terrifying.

        The lady knight ties her lasso around Ben’s horse’s bridle, to his indignation, then returns to her own mount. Sore and tired and starving, Ben has little choice but to let himself be pulled along to this strange knight’s camp. At least it’s a place to rest. Hopefully.

*******


	2. Chapter 2

*******

         The lady knight’s camp turns out to be a clearing deep in the nearby woods, complete with a tent, a makeshift fire pit, and a clothesline stretched between a nearby pair of trees.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Ben offers, trying to be polite.

“I hate that damn tent. It’s _tiny_ ,” the woman snarls, voice muffled by her helmet.

He raises his hands in surrender, conceding, “Okay, your Highness, I get it! No complimenting the tent! I just meant— thanks. For your _hospitality_.”

“Shut up,” she says, lashing the horses to a nearby tree as Ben stretches and hobbles towards the center of the clearing, sinking down onto the soft grass. The lady knight’s visor is still hiding her face, but Ben can tell when he’s being glared at.

He smirks to himself. He’s getting to her.

        “Look, if you’re expecting me to pamper you and treat your wounds and give you a hot meal, you’re going to be very disappointed,” the golden knight says crossly. “I’m not a fucking nursemaid. Take care of yourself. I’m going for some water.”

She picks up a jug from beside the tent and trudges off, leaving him sitting there alone.

        Wincing, Ben removes his helmet and sets about peeling off his dented, sweaty armor. Once down to his simple leather breeches, he falls back into the grass, enjoying the way the light breeze tickles the bare skin of his arms and back. As he stares at the bright blue sky and the edges of the treetops overhead, he wonders about the golden knight.

Ben considers himself to be quite a success with the ladies- not that he actually cares much for any of them- but he’s already given this one up for a lost cause. She hates everything- especially him. And to be honest, he isn’t wild about her yet either. What he is, is curious. Who is this woman, exactly? And why is there such fury in her voice?

Something about the mysterious knight reminds Ben irresistibly of another girl from Messina he’d once known. When he was a young boy, new to the palace of Prince Pedro and his father, Benedick had met a girl, a visiting noble’s daughter from a nearby Dukedom. She’d been tiny and blonde and a real spitfire, the only noble girl he’d ever known who could beat a knight-in-training on the battlefield.  He wonders where that feisty noblewoman is now. He wouldn’t mind seeing her again, instead of being stuck with this brute of a girl who knocks other knights off of towers and ruins their kills.

Anyway, having another knight basically take him hostage isn’t going to do his reputation any favors. He decides to find her and see what she wants, so he can get out of here as soon as possible.

         “Hey! Goldie, where are you?” Ben calls as he cuts away the underbrush. “We should talk, get to know each other, don’t you think? Maybe we can make a deal, or— _oh_. Um. Wow.”

Ben has found the river. And standing next to the river, sword aloft, legs apart in a perfect fighting stance, is the noble girl from Messina.

She’s utterly bewitching. Tall and blonde, her hair hanging loose, her muscular arms brandishing the blade so perfectly she must be a professional. Her thin tunic and breeches cling to her skin, wet with river water and sweat, and there’s a vicious look in her eye. A pile of silver and gold armor sits abandoned a short way off.

“It’s really you,” Ben says, staring. “You are the golden knight!”

        “I did knock you off a tower 20 minutes ago, yeah,” she smirks, still breathing heavily from exertion. Her eyes appraise him carefully, and he catches her look of shock as she realizes. “Oh my God. _Benedick?_ ”

“Lady Beatrice,” Ben says, with a brief, polite bow. “It’s been too long. Surprised I let you win back there?”

“Like hell you did,” Beatrice says. “You always did give up as soon as the tide turned against you, dickface. I know you of old.”

“That’s _Signior_ Benedick the _Brave_ , to you.”

She rolls her eyes. “What _ever_.”

*******

       Benedick and Beatrice spend the rest of that day and evening catching up. It’s no surprise to Ben what she’s become- this amazing warrior woman who still kind of hates his guts for leaving her, the best friend he’d ever had.

Bea had gone home, Ben had been conscripted into the knighthood training in Aragon, and then he’d been afraid to write because he hadn’t known why she was mad at him and didn’t want to make it worse. He’d never seen her since.

And now she’s right here, Lady Beatrice the Valiant, Knight of Messina. His captor.

They’re stewing vegetables over the fire, talking about work and trying not to make eye contact. It’s exhausting. And anxiety-inducing.

Ben sighs, breaking the silence at last.

At that, Beatrice looks up from the fire. “You ready to tell me why you’re on my turf, dickface?”

       Bea determines to stamp out the little part of herself that says it’s glad to see Benedick again. No longer a boy, Sir Benedick is tall and clumsy and intriguing as ever. Beatrice keeps thinking back to the way he looked at her on the riverbank, his wet hair falling in his eyes, his well-muscled knight’s frame mottled with darkening bruises where she’d knocked the wind out of him back at the tower. She’d stared, she was sure of it.

She still can’t wrap her head around it. Bea had known the skinny little boy from Aragon was meant to become a knight, but she’d always stopped herself from wondering what had happened to him. And now he’s here, all grown up and intruding on her quest. _Great._

And now she’s probably blushing. In front of an enemy knight with the audacity to have gotten seriously hot over the past five years. _Asshole_ , she thinks, glaring.

      “I was just trying to help, my lady,” Ben says, not noticing her discomfort. “Why are you so mad about that tower, anyway?”

“Saving Hero is _my_ job, not yours,” Beatrice says, her anger returning in full. “She’s been taken by unknown enemies, possibly along with her obnoxious former suitor, Count Claudio. My informants say they might be in the ogre’s tower I caught you scaling today. Were you _trying_ to get yourself killed?”

“I was doing just fine until you came along!” Ben exclaims. “You literally knocked me off the tower wall, and now you’re blaming me for it? Unbelievable.”

“Look,” Beatrice says, reaching into the pouch around her neck. “I don’t have time to argue. I just need to hear whatever you know about whose lands these are, where my cousin is, and why her horse came back to our palace with this scrap of blue Aragon cloth attached to the saddle. Spill.”

“Princess Hero never arrived in Aragon, and if she had, we certainly wouldn’t hold her there against her will. If that cloth is real, it means someone is trying to frame us,” Ben insists, examining the cloth.

“I’d like to see you prove it. Now, our location?” Beatrice crosses her arms.

“That, I can’t tell you, my lady. This forest is unclaimed land. I’m on my usual patrol, and I thought I should check this place out,” Ben says. “In case the count is here. No one in Aragon has heard a thing from Claudio since he left our kingdom to court his intended- I guess that’d be Princess Hero? That’s all I know, I promise.”

“All right. I want a full account of Claudio’s and Peter’s known associates,” Beatrice says, ladling the stew. “You must have some idea who’d want to hurt them.”

“I have theories,” Ben acknowledges. “And at least one of them is treason.”

“ _Perfect_. Tell me, please. My cousin’s betrothed, Princess Ursula, has a battalion of knights nearby who can help us track down any leads.”

*******

        All things considered, the two knights are getting along better than either one could have hoped. Catching up on each other’s lives, relatives and common friends, along with possible leads on Princess Hero’s captors, is enough to distract them from arguing— well, mostly.

The only hiccup in the rest of the evening is the sleeping arrangements. Ben doesn’t want to sleep exposed to the elements, but he lost his tent in the earlier scuffle. He could kick himself.

“That’s your problem,” Beatrice says, having already climbed into and closed the flaps of her own tent. “You can sleep on the ground for all I care.”

“You’re the one who took me hostage, remember?” Ben shoots back. “And since I was kind enough to let you have me, it’s up to you to provide me the necessities to survive- unless you want to wake up and find your best informant on Claudio’s movements has frozen to death in the night.”

“Frozen? It’s _summer_!”

        In the end, Benedick decides to be a gentleman. “All right, I’m sorry to intrude,” he admits, backing off. “You have a right to your space. And I want you to know that I’m on your side. We’re all knights here, yeah?”

“Take this,” Beatrice says stiffly, tossing him an extra blanket. “And… thanks.”

Benedick takes the blanket and curls up near the dregs of the fire. At least he definitely won’t freeze.

*******


	3. Chapter 3

***

         The next day brings another fruitless assault on the tower. When the sun burns hot at midday and the exhaustion is too much, Ben suggests a different plan. Espionage in the nearest village.

“This plan is ridiculous, you just want lunch,” Beatrice says. “Besides, we’ll be recognized.”

“Neither of us are from this village, Bea,” Ben points out. “Normal clothes instead of armor, and we’ll claim to be weary travelers looking for something to eat. Drunken townspeople will tell us all the news we need.”

        It takes a while, but he’s right about that. They quickly find the village and head for the local pub, where Ben leads Bea to a table in a corner, inconspicuous, but close enough to hear everything the other patrons say. Ben overtly places himself between Bea and the most unsavory of the bar clientele, who eyed her greedily as they walked in. Ben glares at them. Bea rolls her eyes and kicks Benedick under the table to remind him that she can look out for herself.

“What can I get you two?” says the dark-haired barmaid, arriving at their table with a smile.

They place their orders, and Beatrice asks, “What village is this, and who is in charge?”

“Welcome to the village of Navarre, ma’am,” says the barmaid. “I'm Meg. The mayor is my wife, Freddie. She’ll be county chancellor next, if she has anything to say about it.” The woman smiles fondly at the thought.

“Have you seen-” Beatrice starts, but Ben cuts her off.

“Have you heard about the missing princess from Messina?” Benedick asks. “She’s been the talk of every town we’ve passed through lately.”

Catching on, Beatrice tries to look somber. “We just hope she’s all right.”

“I haven’t seen her,” the mayor’s wife says. “I wish I could help. Maybe Prince John knows, he should be in the village this afternoon, collecting our taxes for the Aragon coffers. There’s something a bit weird about him. He’s been reported for taking more than he’s owed. I’m Meg, by the way. You’re welcome here at Boyet’s Pub any time. You two make an adorable couple.”

She winks and takes her leave, while Beatrice goes bright red and Ben tries not to laugh.

“Couple? As if,” Bea grumbles.

Ben grins, teasing. “Aw, come on, I’m not that bad.”

“Yes,” she snaps. “You _are_ that bad, dickface. You’re wasting my time here.”

His smile fades. “Finally, the truth comes out. Really nice, Beatrice.”

 “Shhh,” Beatrice waves at Ben to stop talking. “Listen!”

       “I’m telling you, Verges, it’s incontrovertible,” a thin little man at the next table is saying to his friend, flagons in each of their hands as they speak in low tones. “I saw a maiden in that abandoned tower, and Prince John just _happens_ to be passing through town? It’s indubitable, unbreakable, certaintatious! He’s involved!”

“We should investigate,” Verges says, downing the rest of her drink. “We’ll put a stop to him!”

“Keep your voice down, Detective!” her friend snaps, and the voices drop too low to hear.

Beatrice turns back to Benedick, a terrifying glare twisting her features. “Your scheming kingdom is behind this after all! I should have known.”

She storms out of the pub, and one of the patrons gives Ben a commiserating look.

“She’s not actually my girlfriend, you know,” Ben mutters under his breath as he follows after her.

Outside, he discovers that Beatrice’s horse is gone. Benedick takes his own mount and hurries after her, back to camp. Whether she’ll forgive him or not, he needs his armor.

     At camp, there are noises of a scuffle in the distance. Ben grabs his sword from the dirt in front of the tent, and rushes from the clearing into the woods.

“Yah! Ah! Eiiiii-yah!” Lady Beatrice is shouting, noises of frustration as she hacks at the branches of a tree much too large to fell alone. She’s going to damage her sword if she doesn’t stop.

“Bea!” Benedick shouts, and she rounds on him, forcing him at swordpoint back into the clearing.

Still in her dress, she moves as quickly as anyone in breeches, a better swordsperson than most he’s seen— and she’s furious, slashing to maim, if not kill. Ben parries and blocks and carefully holds her off at every stroke.

      “Did you know?” Beatrice screams. “Did you know your princes had my cousin this whole time? And Count Claudio, too, no doubt! How _dare_ you lie to me?”

“I didn’t! If you’d just listen, Bea-”

 _“Don’t call me that!”_ she snarls. “Nicknames, letting people believe we were together- you have no right! As if I would ever touch you! Why- won’t- you- _surrender_ already?”

Every word of her last sentence is punctuated with another blow of the sword, all of which he deflects with difficulty.

“I can’t do that, my Lady,” Ben pants, gaining the advantage for a moment, using it to push her towards the tree line. “I’m fighting on your side! I’m telling you the truth!”

Beatrice spins, thrusts- and suddenly Ben’s sword is on the ground, and his back is pressed against a tree. Her sword just grazes the stubble at his throat.

      “Swear it,” she pants, looking right into his eyes with her own ice blues. “Swear to me you aren’t going to break me like you did last time. Tell me that you didn’t help them take her. Swear it!”

“I swear!” Benedick gasps, raising his hands as best he’s able. Surrendering to her blade. “I’m as innocent in this as you are. You can trust me, Beatrice. I swear it!”

“Good,” Beatrice says, tossing her sword to the ground. Benedick is still pressed against the tree in shock when she turns and storms away.

***

      Ben brings both swords back to camp, buries the blades in the earth near Beatrice’s tent, so they stand ready to grab at a moment’s notice, and sets about cleaning his boots with his pocketknife. The repetitive scraping action, though useless in wooded areas like these, calms him and helps him to think, to remember what he heard in Aragon.

Beatrice finds him sitting there, a long while later.

“I think Prince Peter was going to seek an audience with Princess Hero in Claudio’s name,” Benedick says before she can speak. “To learn how she might respond to a proposal. What I heard was that she’d turned him down and left for home, and Claudio thought Peter had tried to take Hero for himself.”

“Like she didn’t have a choice in the matter?” Beatrice spits. “ _Men_.”

“I don’t like it either. What I want to know is, what really happened when the princess visited Aragon? Where is she now? And why did Claudio never come back from Messina?” Ben muses. “Something is up.”

       “I’m sorry,” Beatrice says suddenly, falling to her knees to sit with him, her eyes downcast.

“No need,” Ben says.

“Yes, there is.” Bea lifts her head, her eyes intense with emotion. “I could have killed you! All you’ve done is help me, and I said all those _horrible_ things to you-”

“No, Bea,” Benedick says, taking her hand. “I understand, you had every right to be upset. And I’m sorry too, for how I acted in the village. I know you can take care of yourself, and I promise you, I didn’t even think about people assuming we’re… together, like that.”

“Well,” Beatrice says- and it almost looks like she’s blushing a little bit. “It’s as good a cover story as any. I hate it, but it works. And you got me my first lead. So… I forgive you.”

 _I forgive you._ It gives Ben the strangest sense of peace, to hear those words.

      “Thank you. I can keep it up for next time, then. And might I add, that dress is stunning on you, my love.” He winks.

Bea makes a face. “Laying it on a little thick there, Prince Charming.”

“Right,” Ben coughs. “Sorry.”

He doesn’t mention the fact that she really does look nice in the light blue shift she wore to town, mud-spattered though it now is.

      Beatrice doesn’t mention that Ben makes a fine civilian, himself.

*******


	4. Chapter 4

*******

     That night, it rains. The horses are sheltered by the trees and saddle blankets. Ben, however, is not so lucky. No dry wood, no fire. He huddles beneath his blanket, trying to get comfortable, hoping minimal rain makes it through the trees to dampen him.

“Oh, come here,” Beatrice sighs, taking pity on him. She’s holding open the flap of the tent. Ben edges inside, lying down beside her.

“You’re sure about this?” He whispers. She just nods.

     It’s so quiet. The only sound is the rain pattering on the tent’s outer surface, and the hum of two souls breathing. They’re so close within the small space, their arms are almost touching. He can feel her body’s warmth spreading to his own.

Beatrice lays on her pallet, facing towards the far wall, apparently trying to forget that she has company. Ben is left staring at the back of her blonde head, wondering at the chance of their paths crossing again after so many years.

     Then, in the falling darkness, she whispers, startling him. “Why did you leave Messina when we were children?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” he says, eyes on the ceiling of rippling fabric above them. “I was conscripted so quickly that I couldn’t stop to think. And I knew you didn’t want me to stay.” Part truth, part lie.

“What?” Beatrice says, turning over to face him. “What do you mean? You stood me up, not the other way round. At my aunts’, the Queens’, royal ball, you promised you’d be there, and instead you left me alone. I hated you for being so heartless.”

“I was scared,” Ben admits, helpless. “I thought you were my friend, and we hated all that party stuff. But then you asked me to the dance, and I didn’t know what that meant, and I just panicked.”

Beatrice sighs. “And I refused to speak to you, to let you explain. And now we hate each other.”

“I don’t hate you,” Ben whispers.

       There’s silence, then. For who knows how long, they’re swallowed by the rain again. And then-

“I’m sorry,” they both say, at the exact same time.

Beatrice smiles, a small, hopeful, tired smile. Ben smiles back, taking her hand in his, their fingers entwined.

Something changes between them, that night. A wall comes down.

*******

       Ben and Beatrice begin surveillance on the tower in the woods the next day. For a long while, no one comes. Hovering in separate trees, armor on, patience thin, Ben hardly dares to even look at Beatrice, to shatter the uneasy peace that lies between them.

Then at last, when they’ve nearly given up hope, the owners of the tower arrive home.

      “Chelsey, the tower doesn’t have any visible doors. I’m sure Oberon is fine,” a woman’s voice filters through the trees.

“But he’s only a kitten, all alone,” her companion sighs. “And you know we’ve had problems lately. Intruders!”

 “Intruders like whom?” Beatrice says, dropping down onto the path, fully armored and menacing.

The second woman- Chelsey- screams and throws her arms around the first, who doesn’t even flinch.

“Like  _you_ , for example. I’m Paige and this is my girlfriend Chelsey, and you’re disturbing our perfectly good magical lair, thank you very much,” says Paige.

“You’re witches?” Ben asks, also dropping out of his tree. “Cool!”

“We practice only light magic,” Chelsey adds in a wavering voice. “So if you’re looking for villains to defeat, you’ve come to the wrong tower!”

Beatrice sighs. “So you’re telling me you  _didn’t_ kidnap my cousin Hero, or Count Claudio of Aragon?”

“Who?” Paige asks. “Sorry, lady, but unless it involves good deeds, music, or cats, we’re not into it. Although we did just return from a month-long sojourn to the Southern Kingdoms, and there was stuff out of place in our tower. Dirty dishes, broken furniture. We cast a protection spell, but Chelsey still worries.”

“Really?” Ben jumps in. “What exactly do you have to do-”

“Did you find anything the intruder might have left behind?” Beatrice cuts in. “And can we see it? Please?”

They join Paige and Chelsey for tea and Beatrice enjoys meeting their cat. The knights and witches examine the tower room, but the only clue the good witches have been able to find is a coin. An Aragon coin.

      Leaving the tower, laden with food and well-wishes, Beatrice maintains her composure. It isn’t until she and Ben arrive back at camp and remove their armor that she lets herself break down in frustrated tears.

“All that wasted time, and it wasn’t even the right tower,” Beatrice says, kicking at a clump of grass. “We’ve failed Hero.”

“No, we haven’t,” Ben says, hands on Bea’s shoulders to stop her. “Hey,  _we haven’t failed_ , okay? We have a new objective!”

“We do?”

“Of course,” Ben says with a reassuring smile. “We know that the kidnapper is wealthy enough to carry coin and not miss what he drops. And we know he’s from Aragon. That’s where we’ll find Hero.”

     Beatrice gasps, pulling him into a hug as she hides her face in his shoulder. Barely audible, she whispers. “ _Thank you_ , Ben. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t, then,” he murmurs, holding her close.

“We leave at first light,” Beatrice says, but it’s another long moment before she breaks the embrace.

*******


	5. Chapter 5

***

       After another quiet night in the tent, Bea and Ben prepare to depart for Aragon. They leave a message for Princess Ursula with the tower witches, who promise to deliver it. Returning to their camp, the knights start to load all their travel things into the horses’ saddlebags.

They’re both tired and stressed, so they don’t talk much that morning. The only benefit to that is, while he misses talking to Beatrice, it does give Ben time to mull over the details of Princess Hero’s disappearance again. The state visit to Peter’s court, the blue cloth scrap on Hero’s abandoned horse, the Aragon coin in the tower…

     “I know who has the princess,” Ben blurts out, horrified by the realization, but suddenly certain.

“What? Who? How did you-” Beatrice is practically jumping up and down with impatience.

“I’m trying to tell you, my Lady,” Ben says gently. “Look, this person is wealthy, they come from Aragon and bear some kind of grudge against Prince Pedro- there’s only one person that could be. One person who had access to Hero and Claudio, and motive to discredit the Aragon royal family. Prince John.”

“Oh my gosh,” Beatrice says, stunned. “Oh, this is so much worse than I thought. There’s only one reason a royal would incriminate his own kingdom against another. He wants to start a war.”

“It makes sense,” Ben nods. “Unseat his brother, he’s next in line to inherit. We need to move. I know where John’s manor house is, he might’ve taken her there.”

“Or he’s there himself, and we’ll make him tell us where Hero is,” Beatrice says, already mounting her horse. “You’ll help me? We’ll destroy him, right?”

“We’ll do what must be done. You and me together.” Ben holds out a hand. Beatrice shakes it, and they begin the ride.

      It takes them several days of riding to get to Aragon, Ben explaining the layout of Prince John’s manor as Beatrice recites summaries of combat drills, to keep each other sharp and prepared.

Each night they pause to camp in the woods and sleep for a few scant hours. It isn’t raining anymore, but still Bea shares her tent with Ben. She trusts him, and instead of sleeping craned away from each other, the two knights allow themselves some closeness.

     During the night, their body heat keeps out the cold, and Beatrice allows herself to be held, Ben’s arms around her keeping her solid, grounded. She can focus on him – his breathing, his warmth, the newness of their bodies pressed together – and forget to worry about things she can’t change. In the silent darkness, cuddled up with Ben, Beatrice feels safe.

Having him there to talk to and bounce ideas off of helps her a lot. She’s out of her mind with fear for Hero’s safety, and Ben can tell. He doesn’t say anything about it, but focuses on optimism, how they’re definitely going to stop John’s wicked plan. Beatrice breathes a little easier, letting Ben’s voice calm her until she can shut the emotions out of her head. When they arrive at the manor, she’ll be fierce, closed-off, battle-ready. There will be no fear.

When they wake with limbs entwined, Ben warm against her in the morning chill, Beatrice doesn’t mind it so much at all.

***

      Ben is exhausted. Riding nonstop for days has left him sore all over, and as much as he enjoys sharing Lady Beatrice’s tent, sleeping curled up together doesn’t help his tired muscles relax. It takes ages to fall asleep when every inch of his body feels alive with Bea’s insistent touch.

Not to mention the days when he has to wake up early and leave the tent, cringing against the cold air, before she has a chance to notice any evidence of what he feels for her. It’s only gentlemanly, to make sure they both still have their modesty intact. She might not even see him that way, after all.

It’s on one of his cold morning walks that Ben first notices the castle. A small fortress of thick grey stone, the building is surrounded by a high wall. A challenge indeed. Scoping out the area, he sees that each entrance is guarded by 3 to 5 men. After about an hour, the shift changes. Careful to avoid detection, Ben slinks back into the woods.

     Beatrice is awake when he gets back to camp, but she’s not alone. A willowy, black-haired woman is sitting by the fire with Bea, several soldiers tending to their horses at the edge of the clearing where Ben and Bea had passed the night.

“Ben, there you are,” Beatrice calls. “Princess Ursula of the Southern Kingdoms, meet Signior Benedick of Padua. He’s… a friend of mine.”

“It’s a pleasure, Princess,” Ben says, dropping into a low bow. The princess smiles and puts a hand on his shoulder, beckoning him to rise.

“Please, call me Ursula,” she says, shaking his hand. “Thank you for helping find my fiancée. We can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t start just yet,” Ben grimaces. “John’s castle is just up ahead, but you won’t like it. Heavily guarded, almost impossible to sneak onto the grounds. We have our work cut out for us.”

     “There is good news,” Beatrice points out. “Our letters have been getting to Ursula. Her trusted messengers are on their way to Prince Peter right now, to let him know what’s going on. And we have reinforcements.”

She gestures to the soldiers, who join the group by the fire at once. They’re a friendly group, who turn out to be called Fred, Kitso, Rosa, Kel and Jaquie.

“All right,” Beatrice says. “It’s time to make a plan. Ben, what are the castle’s weak spots? We can work around them.”

“I think the front entrances are most heavily guarded,” Ben replies, drawing a map in the dirt at his feet. “See, if we can come up from the back, we might just have the element of surprise to rely on. It’s a strategy, anyway.”

“A stupid strategy,” snarks Rosa. “We should split up and tackle as many guards as we can on every side. Weaken their defenses, then break in, it’s basic storming technique.”

      “No,” Ursula snaps. “The guards could overpower us just as easily. One wrong move and John will know we’re here. He could hurt Hero or spirit her away again, and then where would we be? No. We stick together.”

“We stick together,” echo her troops, and the plan is made.

Bea just hopes they’ll make it to Hero in time.

***


	6. Chapter 6

*******

        Approaching the castle, all seems calm. Beatrice is so focused on checking their surroundings at all angles- but she forgets one. She forgets to look up.

A horn sounds from a tower window, and three heavily armed guards appear out of nowhere. The rescue crew has been spotted. And leading John’s guards is none other than the traitor, Claudio.

“Go!” Ben shouts, already drawing his sword. “Find Hero! I’ll deal with them.”

Beatrice wants to protest—three against one is terrible odds— but waiting to fight alongside him might mean losing their chance to find Hero before Prince John’s guards can sound the alarm to the whole castle. Reluctantly, she lets him go.

“Rosa, help Sir Benedick. The rest of you, with me,” Princess Ursula commands.

Stay safe,” Beatrice calls, with one last worried look at Ben. He looks determined, and unafraid. He’ll be okay. Hero is all that matters now.

She follows Ursula and the others into the dungeon, haunted by the serious, emotional look in Ben’s eyes. He’s worried about her, too. She has to make this mission work. She has to find her cousin, and fast.

Beatrice and Ursula race along the dungeon’s serpentine walls with their group, calling Hero’s name. Hero doesn’t— can’t?— respond, and Bea’s gut turns cold with fear as they round the next corner. There, in the farthest cell, is a body.

A shrunken figure, splayed across the hard floor, twitching at the sound of their voices.

        “Hero!” cries Ursula, and uses her sword to smash the lock off the cell door. Ursula takes Hero into her arms, ignoring the dirt and filth caking her weakened body.

Bea falls to her knees beside them, examining her cousin. Hero is still wearing the dress she left Messina in, so many months ago. It used to be pale lavender, but now is tattered and stained brown. Her eyes and cheeks are sunken with exhaustion and hunger, but her hands are warm.

“She’s breathing,” Ursula exclaims. “Thank goodness. Oh, Hero, darling, you’re alive!”

“Hmm… Urs…” Hero mumbles, stirring feebly.

“Hero, you’re safe now,” Bea says. “It’s Beatrice and Ursula, we’re going to get you out of here. Kit, Fred! Now!”

The two knights step forward, helping Ursula to lift Hero and carry her out of the cell. Ursula’s eyes never leave her fiancée as Beatrice leads them all out of the dungeon, her sword drawn, sighing in relief.

This is almost too easy.

There should be more obstacles to clear, knowing John. He’s too smart for this. Beatrice isn’t going to let him or anyone hurt Hero again, no matter what that villain has planned.

***

        Beatrice finds out as soon as they emerge into the sunlight, to find an equal number of their and John’s men unconscious or dead on the grass. She can’t find Ben, he isn’t anywhere.

Her heart nearly stops- but no, Benedick is there, still standing, still fighting.

Bea’s relief dies in her chest as she sees the man in black armor who Ben is battling, their last enemy combatant. Prince John laughs as he bears down on Benedick, forcing him into a corner against the castle wall, trying to flip his sword out of his hand.

“You- bastard-” Ben chokes out, breathing hard, pushing back against the offending blade.

John smiles as he backhands Ben’s head with the broad side of his sword, and Ben crumples to the ground.

       “NO!” Beatrice shrieks like the wound is splitting her own head, her own heart. “BENEDICK!”

She barrels at John, sword glinting, merciless. Her aim is true, and she collides with the black armor, leaving a large dent over the wicked prince’s chest. John shudders, his mouth curled in a snarl of anger and pain, and fights back, landing a deep cut in the flesh of Bea’s arm.

She falters, in pain, until from the corner of her eye, she sees Ben stirring feebly, then going still again.

“No! _No one hurts him_!” she screams, lunging at John. “No one _touches_ him in front of me. And my cousin! I’ll kill you for doing this to her, you _monster!”_

“Not a monster,” John shrugs, smiling wolfishly. “Just a politician. No offense meant, my dear, but your cousin is simply a means to an end.”

“What end?” Bea demands, knocking John off-balance with another blow.

“To take power, of course,” John snarls. “What better way to mount a coup of Aragon and destroy my brother, than to start a war with Messina and blame it all on him? The people will be on my side. They won’t want King Peter at the helm, once they know how he treats his princesses.”

        Beatrice screams in frustration. John is strong, and she can’t hold him forever. If she doesn’t end this soon- Ben and Hero need medical care, immediately. She’d gladly die herself before losing either of them, and the realization hits her like a blade through the heart. Ben isn’t moving. She would kill for him, and she would die for him, and she might be losing him now.

_No._

“I’ll give you a bloody war!” Bea raises her sword a final time, knocking John’s out of his hand and aiming for his heart— right as a pure white horse swoops between them, and its rider seizes John by the collar, like an errant puppy.

“I’m disappointed, John,” says Prince Peter. “I didn’t want to believe it, that my own brother could hate me so much. And Princess Hero! First you tricked me into maligning her character at court, and now, this? Her life is really worth my crown to you?”

He drops John into the waiting arms of the royal soldiers, who take him away in chains.

        Beatrice isn’t listening to any of that. The moment Prince John’s in custody, she forgets everything else. She’s running across the courtyard to Benedick’s side, falling to her knees beside him, crying with happiness when she sees that he’s breathing. _He’s alive._

“You dickface, you just had to play the hero, didn’t you?” Bea says fondly, cradling his head in her lap, patting his cheek. “Can you hear me? Ben? Ben, please…”

One of her tears lands on his cheek, leaving a track in the sweat and grime there, and he opens his eyes, bloodshot and blue as the sky.

“…Bea?”

“Ben!” She kisses his forehead, ecstatic. “Oh I hate you so much, don’t ever scare me like that again!”

“I knew… you’d come back for me,” Ben mumbles, smiling tiredly. “My knight in shining armor…”

“Yeah, I am,” Beatrice laughs through her tears. “And you’re mine.”

*******


	7. Chapter 7

*******

       Knowing that Prince Peter is honest and good, the rescue party accepts his invitation to stay at what used to be John’s estate. Beatrice isn’t thrilled about it, but they need a place to rest until Princess Hero and Sir Benedick are well enough to travel.

Hero is weak and malnourished, but otherwise uninjured. She’s well on the way to making a full recovery, and relieved to see her friends again. Once she knows her cousin is okay, Beatrice doesn’t feel guilty about leaving Hero’s bedside. Besides, Ursula is with her, and the two princesses will be married soon. They deserve their private time to recover together.

And Bea needs to be with Ben.

       She sits up with him constantly, badgering the royal healers about his condition until she’s satisfied that he’s out of danger. Ben has a serious concussion and a number of cuts and bruises, which appear to be healing nicely. He wakes up quickly enough that it’s clear he’ll recover.

Still, Bea can’t stand to leave him. He could take a turn for the worse while she’s gone. Anything could happen. Ben teases her about it, as she fidgets and grumbles against the machinations of the healer who changes the bandage on her arm. It still hurts a lot.

      “Bea, you have to take care of yourself, or we’ll both be useless,” Ben says, taking her hand and making her flush with happiness.

“It’s not me I’m worried about, dickface. Nurse, are you sure Ben’s okay? It’s really just a minor injury, it isn’t going to cause complications or anything?” Bea asks.

“No, milady,” says the nurse, amused, as he re-wraps her arm. “I assure you, your love will make a full recovery. But I’m less certain about you, if you don’t let me finish here!”

Ben grins. “Oh, so I’m your love now. That’s news to me!”

“Shut up, you,” Bea says, her face going bright red with embarrassment.

“Maybe you should make me,” Ben says, waggling his eyebrows.

“Maybe I should,” Bea admits, and kisses him.

He kisses her back, enthusiastically, and it’s everything she’s wanted, everything they’ve both wanted for so long.

“Okay. I’ll just- excuse me,” the nurse says awkwardly, and flees the room.

                “Bea?” says Ben, a while later, out of breath. “This is amazing, but I think you’re making me dizzy again.”

“God, me too,” Bea sighs happily. “We should rest.”

“You can stay,” Ben offers, blushing. “With me? If you want. I mean-”

She doesn’t bother to answer, just curls up next to him in bed, kissing his cheek.

“I love you too, you know,” Ben whispers into her hair.

“Good,” Bea smiles. “You’ll wake me if you need anything? I couldn’t stand it if you were in pain and-”

“I’m _fine_ , love, I promise.”

“I just love you so much,” Bea mumbles, and then she’s asleep.

Ben watches her fondly until he too has to close his eyes.

*******

                Crown Prince Leo of Messina starts laughing as soon as he sees his cousin. Beatrice scowls at him, but she’s still wrapped around Benedick in ridiculously obvious fashion, supporting him and cuddling with him at the same time. So Leo has a point.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Lady Beatrice fell in love,” Leo laughs, nudging Prince Peter beside him.

“I know, right? You two are so gross,” Peter says, rolling his eyes.

          The grand banquet will soon be under way, Prince Peter’s ballroom transformed into the celebration hall for the reconciliation of Aragon and Messina. It’s been two months since Princess Hero’s rescue, and she’s made a full recovery. She and Ursula have a place of honor at the high table, as the most favored guests. Their wedding has been set for the approaching springtime.

Near them at the table are Prince Peter, Prince Leo, Beatrice and Benedick, chatting about how much things have changed.

“It’s just too bad,” says Leo, “that our chance to unite the kingdoms has passed us by. Congratulations on your engagement, Peter, I’m sure you and Balthazar will be very happy.”

“Thanks, but I dunno, Leo, I’m pretty sure I know an Aragon noble who’s still available for marriage,” Peter grins. “Who could we pair him off with?”

“Maybe a certain Messina royal who just happens to be starting a consulting knighthood business with him?” Leo points out, winking at Beatrice.

“Amazing,” Peter agrees. “I bet we’ll have an engagement brewing in no time. We’re a regular Team Love Gods.”

        “Oh my God,” Beatrice glares. “Stop. It’s bad enough Hero keeps dropping hints about ‘happy ever afters.’”

“Yeah, lay off. If we ever decide to get married, we’ll let you know,” Benedick says.

“Exactly!” Beatrice says. “This is why I love you.”

“Wait, you do _want_ us to live happily ever after, don’t you, Bea?” Ben asks.

Bea kisses him quickly, laughing. “Of course I do. _And they lived happily ever after…_  " she says, testing out the words. "Well, it might not be as perfect as all that, but yes. I think we will.”

*******

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final lines are slightly inspired by the last lines of "Dealing With Dragons" by Patricia C Wrede. I love that book. 
> 
> Anyway, yay! Happy ending! I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)


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